


How to tell if polyamory is right for you, a Helpful Guide by the Principality Aziraphale

by MerenwenNolat



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), C-word for vagina, Cake, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Foursome, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Gabriel (Good Omens), Including changing Efforts up, Insults, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Mostly fluff and humour and smut, Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Now with bonus house in Oxfordshire, Pastries, Polyamory, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, Retirement, Sex Toys, Snark, Some feels, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Wings, gender non-conforming, mostly - Freeform, no beta we saunter vaguely downwards, polycule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerenwenNolat/pseuds/MerenwenNolat
Summary: After Armageddon utterly failed to eventuate, Crowley and Aziraphale took six days to thoroughly explore each other's phsyical (and ethereal) forms before moving to the South Downs and settling into coupled pseudo-retirement. Meanwhile, the Archangel Gabriel and the Prince of Hell consult on the best way to move forward in a world without a Great Plan. Orgasms help. Their ex-agents might help too.Being a fragmented-ish fic about the original tempter, a fussy principality, the Archangel Fucking Gabriel and the Lord of the Flies, their time on Earth, and the life they build together. There's also snark and sex.(Non-linear, stand-aloneish chapters. Updated when inspiration strikes, and no cliffhangers.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Beelzebub (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Beelzebub (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Beelzebub/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53





	1. In the beginning...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFallenCaryatid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFallenCaryatid/gifts).



> This is entirely the fault of the IB server, and my random babbling there. You are all amazing
> 
> Special thanks to TheFallenCaryatid because you are the best cheerleader ever. I doubt I would ever get anything written if it wasn't for you.

The close friendship that had formed between Aziraphale and Beelzebub was something of a surprise to Gabriel and Crowley. In the decades since the Archangel and the Lord of the Flies had thrown in the towel, as it were, and begun to reside on Earth, the retired Principality and the Prince of Hell had relatively quickly bonded over consumables, terrible customer service, and subtle bastardry. 

They weren't interested in indulging in anything more than cuddling together, or the occasional kiss. But Crowley had been rather disgruntled that his angel's thighs were no longer solely his domain when he wanted a mid-afternoon nap.

~~~~~

"Demon."

"Wanker."

Aziraphale elbowed Crowley. "I don't expect you to be nice my dear, but you could be civil."

A sigh. "Fine. Archangel Wanker."

~~~~~

Crowley and Aziraphale had been intimate in every way their corporations could manage (and a few ethereal ways as well) within six days of arriving back at the bookshop following dinner at the Ritz[1]. They'd spent the following day[2] in each other's arms, exchanging kisses and murmured endearments and discussing the possibility of a shared home by the seaside.

Over the next five years the former principality and the original tempter built a quiet, peaceful life together. Aziraphale had fortnightly tea with Madame Tracy, tried and failed to learn to bake, and regularly went book shopping with Anathema. Crowley taught the Them to drive, spent hours playing online games with Warlock, and secretly learned to knit. But most of their days were spent alone together in their South Downs cottage or wandering about food trucks and markets the world over in search of delightful morsels for Aziraphale to savour. Neither of them had considered any kind of physical relations with outside parties in the years before Gabriel and Beelzebub came to live on Earth; in the past they had both had other arrangements[3], but now they were far too distracted by their own domesticity to consider flings with humans, and they weren't exactly spending any time with their old coworkers. Besides, they would always remain the most important person[4] in each other's lives[5].  
  
  


~~~~~

Aziraphale and Beelzebub watched from their table as a businessman screamed at the cafe staff and threw his coffee on the floor. Beelzebub hummed.

"Could put maggots in his suit."

"Oh, don't. They do delightful things with pastry here, I would hate for them to be shut down."

"Hmph."

The man's face was almost purple now. Aziraphale tilted his head, eyes narrowed, before he fluttered his fingers towards the door.

The man's supervisor entered. And three members of upper management. The man went white. 

Beelzebub glanced at Aziraphale. "Maggots would've been better."

"Nonsense." Aziraphale nibbled at a pear danish. "That man has spent years working his way towards his dream job, and I doubt very much they'll consider him cool and collected enough for the role now." He smirked. "And of course the video that the young man in the corner is filming. There's something called an internet pile on, Crowley said it's one of his but I'm not completely convinced." Beelzebub huffed, turning to hide their grin.

"It'll do."

~~~~~ 

After the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't and two failed executions, Gabriel and Beelzebub had found themselves consulting with each other on the new direction needed by their respective offices. Their consultations had largely been filled with arguments, until they were filled with orgasms instead. 

Beelzebub came to realise that the endless, pointless bureaucratic nightmare of Hell was far more infuriating without the end date of Armageddon in sight. Gabriel, meanwhile, had struggled with the theological implications of a supposed traitorous angel who had disrupted the Great Plan and had not fallen from the Host. Both of them felt secretly lost, and took far more comfort in their semi-regular meetings than they would admit to themselves.

It was Beelzebub who prompted their duel relocation. Gabriel had himself assigned as the new permanent agent to Earth, Beelzebub told Dagon they were leaving and they'd be in contact, and together they moved into a flat in London. It took them two days[6] to seek out their rogue agents and make contact.

~~~~~

It had not been a pleasant first meeting. The book Aziraphale had flung in surprise at their arrival had left quite the bruise on Gabriel’s face.

~~~~~

Crowley and Gabriel did not bond over bastardry or foodstuffs. They had no in-jokes, no little routines, no sweet moments of shared interest. Crowley thought Gabriel was an uptight bureaucratic prick, and Gabriel felt Crowley was the most irritating creature in all of creation. 

But Gabriel had a massive cock. And Crowley might be irritating, but he was also the most _flexible_ being in all of creation.

~~~~~

Just after the beginning, the Serpent of Eden and the Prince of Hell had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.[7] Whenever Beelzebub had enough of dripping ceilings and Hastur's bitching they'd come upstairs, usually seeking Crowley out for some friendly fucking and a cigarette. The clove ones were their favourite, and Crowley's witticisms always made the trip worth any accumulated paperwork upon return. 

After Rome, and oysters, and the secret awakening of previously smothered longing, Beelzebub and Crowley stopped fucking. They both missed it a little, but not much - Beelzebub still smoked clove cigarettes, and Crowley still offered sarcastic observations, and they would both leave expectations and responsibilities behind for a few hours. Sometimes they'd just sit in silence, looking up at the stars and smoking.

Usually when Beelzebub found Crowley sleeping they would leave, returning within the week and demanding booze for the delay. Occasionally they would poke him awake, and Crowley would bitch about circadian rhythms and linens and fumble through his belongings for cigarettes. 

Once, Crowley had been covered in a fine layer of dust, and it’d seemed as though he wouldn't be waking again anytime soon. Beelzebub had miracled everything clean and pulled off their coat and shoes, crawled onto the bed and curled up against the other demon's back. They had stayed there until Crowley shifted in his sleep, and once they left they never allowed themselves to consider their distinctly undemonic feelings. 

Fucking was all well and good. Friendship was another thing.

~~~~~

It took four meetings and a non-venomous bite to Gabriel's hand before Aziraphale and Beelzebub discovered a mutual love of cake. After that it was only a matter of time, really.

~~~~~

Beelzebub was raging at the television. Presumably Hastur was still a prick, and someone else had fucked up royally, and there would be literal Hell to pay. It sounded like it meant a trip Below for the Prince of Hell within the next few days.

Afterwards, Crowley sauntered into the back garden where Beelzebub stood by the rose bushes, shivering slightly in the breeze. Without a word Crowley lit a single cigarette, took a deep drag, and passed it to the other demon.

~~~~~

In the end, the four had their first house built near the village of Woodstock in Oxfordshire. It was reasonably close to Aziraphale and Crowley's human friends, and had plenty of excellent cafes and pubs, but the clincher for Crowley had been the filming of a Bond chase scene at Blenheim Palace. Gabriel couldn't have cared less about location; he'd always intended to do everything in his power to keep everyone home with him.

~~~~~

"Why don't you join in, Sunshine?"

Aziraphale looked almost unruffled but for the pink flush on his cheeks. "Thank you Gabriel but I'm quite content to watch for the moment," he said primly, linking his hands together over his waistcoat as he stared at the delightful tableau before him. Gabriel's form pinned Crowley and Beelzebub beneath him; the demons were tangled together tightly, kissing, while Gabriel kept his eyes on the principality. 

Crowley snorted a laugh, then moaned, Gabriel's thrusts into Crowley's ass pushing his own cock deeper into Beelzebub's cunt. "Fuck, Gabe, leave my angel be," he goaded, and Gabriel snarled and bit Crowley's shoulder, thrusting harder. Beelzebub laughed in turn, and reached to grope Gabriel's ass, and soon enough all three of them had come and come again and collapsed exhausted together amidst the pillows.

Aziraphale smiled and joined them on the bed.

[1] It would have been sooner, but there was a _lot_ to explore together

[2] The seventh day, as it turned out. Crowley didn’t notice, but Aziraphale did

[3] Not Arrangements, mind. Those were special

[4] Ethereal, occult, or otherwise

[5] Or, more accurately, each other's endless existence

[6] Not six; they had, after all, already spent some time exploring their corporations together

[7] Again, not an Arrangement. Crowley would only ever have one of those


	2. In which an Archangel and the Prince of Hell seek assistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Gabriel and Beelzebub came to Earth, and their attempts to contact their ex-agents. Featuring cake, sex, ducks, and snark. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mild panic attack
> 
> Once again, thanks to the IB Discord server, who always give much feedback. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. 
> 
> Sexytimes ahead.

The Archangel Gabriel had doubted in the years following Armageddon't. He never Doubted, mind; that was, he still believed in Her Plan, but it took some time to accept that the plan was, ultimately, unknowable. He had floundered in the wake of Aziraphale's failed trial, and the ousted[1] Principality's continued holiness had upset the understood natural order of things in Ethereal HQ. 

In the turbulent time, Gabriel had…..consulted, as it were, with the opposition. While the demon Crowley's holy water swim had not disturbed Hell's understanding of the normal order of things[2], Lord Beelzebub was still furious at the extra work involved in standing down the unruly hordes. That fury, and Gabriel's frustrated doubt, had led to numerous meetings filled with sharp words and sniping, before it led to meetings with sharp nails and grabbing. Gabriel found that sexual congress did indeed reduce stress levels, and Beelzebub was quite aesthetically pleasing even with those ridiculous socks. 

It was three years before Beelzebub had suggested the relocation. Their meetings had long since moved from bland boardrooms to bland hotel rooms, and Gabriel was still reclined naked on the bedcover[3] watching as they tugged their trousers back up their legs. Beelzebub had been bitching under their breath about some maintenance issue in Hell when they paused, cocking their head to look intently at Gabriel's knee.

"Have you ever thought about…..your office." 

Gabriel hummed and stretched, considering. "I mostly like my office. It's very bright, and nobody bothers me too much except Sandalphon. I could do with more space for clothes, though."

Beelzebub stared at Gabriel and wrinkled their nose, considering. "Do you think you could….have an office here. On Earth. Instead."

Gabriel sat up. "You mean leave Heaven. I can't do that, I'm the Archangel Gabriel."

"Yes, yes, you're very important," Beelzebub muttered, flapping their hand at him dismissively. "But who says you have to stay? Your traitor's down here, and you said he keeps up his miracles. Why work yourself stupid Upstairs? How do you know that's the Plan, anyway? It's not like you wankers have all the answers."

Gabriel sat, silent. Beelzebub finished dressing, then leaned over and kissed him hard. They bit his lip as they pulled back. "Just think about it," they murmured, voice gentler than Gabriel had ever heard it, before striding from the room. The door swung partway shut behind them and got caught on the doormat.

Gabriel did think about it. He thought about it as he ascended, as he walked through the echoing offices above, as he sat at his desk. He thought about it in the coming weeks as Sandalphon continued to drop by unannounced, as he filled in pointless form after pointless form, as he oversaw the seemingly aimless busywork being carried out by other angels. He thought about it as he watched Michael whisper into her phone, as Uriel's expression gradually grew more and more lost, as he noted the continued miracles of one Principality Aziraphale to spread peace and goodwill among the humans.

He thought about seeing Beelzebub every day.

Sometimes he cursed Beelzebub under his breath. But he didn't stop thinking. 

~~~~~

It was seven months before he saw Beelzebub again. They met in a different bland hotel, with a marginally better bedspread[4]. 

Gabriel got there first, and sat in the rickety chair provided with the tiny desk. He coughed as soon as Beelzebub entered the room. "So. I've been thinking."

"Fuck, Gabriel, can't it wait 'til after?"

"No." Gabriel tugged on his lapels, then ran his hands over them to smooth down the fabric. He stood and spoke, voice ringing with celestial overtones. "I have considered your suggestion, demon, and I think it worth pursuing." His eyes glowed, and the shadows of his wings fell against the fading paint on the wall behind him.

The room reverberated for a moment with the sound of bells. Beelzebub stared at him, which Gabriel thought was unfair. It hadn't been _his_ suggestion, after all. 

".......and?" Beezlebub finally asked, exasperation clear in their expression. 

Gabriel sat back down. "Well, I can't just up and leave. I had thought to suggest to Michael that I could serve as our new permanent agent to Earth. Perhaps find Aziraphale, he can help me work out what I need to know down here."

Beelzebub stared at him again, before huffing and pulling off their jacket. "Fine, perfect, now take your trousers off," they said, voice muffled by fabric as they stripped. Gabriel looked at their naked torso and reached for his belt.

~~~~~

It took another two years and three meetings before Gabriel found himself on Earth, sitting naked on the comfortable sofa in his new lodgings in London with the Prince of Hell on top of him. Beelzebub didn't always manifest the same effort, and today their erection slid against his abdominal muscles as he thrust up inside them while they sucked and bit at his neck. "Fuck, Gabe, _harder_ ," they moaned, throwing their head back, and Gabriel wrapped an arm around their tiny waist and complied.

Gabriel doubted that there was a greater pleasure in the whole history of creation than the sound and feel of Beelzebub coming apart under his ministrations[5]. Their final moan was always higher than those preceding it, and their hands would shake every time they came. Afterwards they would slump against him, panting, and for a few long minutes he could stroke their skin and smell their hair without interruption.

Perhaps it was because neither of them had to report back to their home offices, but it seemed that Beelzebub lay pressed against Gabriel for much longer than they usually would post-sexual congress. Gabriel was just contemplating the risks versus rewards of suggesting a shared shower when Beelzebub rubbed their face against his pectoral muscle and hummed.

"'S good 's th's 's, sh'ld pr'bly geddup," they mumbled directly against his skin. Gabriel pouted and tightened his arms around them.

"It's not like we have anywhere to be."

"True," they yawned and sat up slightly, looking Gabriel in the face. "But you were on about your agent again, let's just get it over with."

Beelzebub was right, of course. Gabriel had questions[6] that only the ousted angel could answer, and he was of course in no way nervous about meeting with a celestial being that could breathe hellfire[7]. Gabriel considered for a moment the possibility of distracting Beelzebub with more orgasms, but the determined glint in their eye told him it was a forlorn hope. He sighed. 

A few minutes[8] later Gabriel and Beelzebub sat silent and fully dressed side-by-side on the sofa. Gabriel tapped his fingers on his knee and shifted awkwardly before turning to Beelzebub.

"And why are you coming with me?"

Beelzebub's face conveyed how very stupid they thought that question was. "We've been over this. Your traitor and my traitor will both be there, so we'll both be there too. United front."

"Except we're still on opposite sides."

"Sure, whatever. Point stands."

They both fell silent again. Beelzebub pointedly cleared their throat and cocked an eyebrow.

"Did you need me to hold your hand for this?"

"Silence, demon." 

~~~~~

Gabriel had decided that it was best to put Aziraphale at ease immediately. To leave no doubts as to his nonviolent intentions. With that in mind, he threw open the door to the abode Aziraphale now shared with his pet demon and strode forward. "Hail, Principality Aziraphale, be not afraid!"

"Oh!"

Something heavy hit Gabriel's face with surprising force. Gabriel belatedly ducked and staggered back, eyes watering, hand pressed to his cheek. He could see Aziraphale standing now, a book in hand and a look of surprise on his face. Beelzebub pushed past him.

"Ignore this idiot. We're not looking for a fight, we have questions. Where's Crowley?" 

Aziraphale's face hardened. "He'll be along with the holy water momentarily no doubt. Do please feel free to show yourselves out," he said, voice full of icy politeness, and the demon Crowley appeared behind him with a spray bottle in hand.

"Hey now," Gabriel hurriedly said, tugging Beelzebub behind him, "Aziraphale, buddy, we're just here to chat. No need for-"

"Gabriel, I would like to remind you that neither Heaven nor Hell have any power over either of us. Now kindly turn yourselves around and depart before we are forced to take drastic action."

"Yeah, fuck off," Crowley scowled, and shook his spray bottle at them. Beelzebub tugged at the back of his jacket.

"Look, we're going, alright?" they said, and tugged harder. "We'll call ahead next time, c'mon Gabriel."

"But-"

"Come _on_!"

Beelzebub dragged him back out through the front garden, and Gabriel saw Crowley give a final wave[9] before slamming the door shut.

"Well. That could have gone better."

"You think?"

Gabriel looked at Beelzebub. "I do, yes," he said earnestly[10].

Beelzebub sighed.

~~~~~

For the second visit, Gabriel had gone alone and knocked politely on the door of Aziraphale's abode[11]. He'd waited, hands clasped in front of him, until the demon's voice floated out from behind the door.

"What." 

"Serpent! I'm here to speak with Aziraphale, fetch him for me."

"No."

Gabriel blinked. Took a deep breath. He knocked again.

_"I'm still here,"_ the demon hissed.

"Excellent. I won't take long, bring me my Principality."

"He's not _yours_ , your lot tried to burn him alive. He's _my_ angel now you giant prick. Back off."

Gabriel stared at the door. "Well it's not like I'm going to try again. I just want to talk to him, he's the only one who can help me."

"Should have thought of that before you tried to execute him, Gabe."

"My name is Gabriel."

"Sure, Gabey-gabe. You have fifteen seconds to get off my stoop before I set it on fire."

Gabriel briefly considered staying anyway, but the demon had sounded particularly annoyed.

~~~~~

Their third visit was very nearly successful.

"Look, let me do the talking. Can't do any worse than you."

"That's not very nice," said Gabriel, wounded. He was laying naked in bed[12] with Beelzebub draped across his chest, their fingertips idly following the red lines left earlier by their nails.

"Demon. Not nice. Not the point." Beelzebub nipped his collarbone and sighed. "I know you're all attached to the angel-"

"-I'm not-"

"-but clearly it's not working."

Gabriel lay in sullen silence for a moment. "Fine."

~~~~~

Beelzebub had managed to convince Aziraphale to step outside his front door and listen. Crowley had refused to let go and now stood behind the Principality, arms wrapped around his chest and yellow eyes shifting between the Archangel and the Prince of Hell. Aziraphale had listened to Gabriel talk about the Ineffable Plan, how he had begun to question Heaven's methods, how Aziraphale had defied convention but stayed in Her good graces.

"I'm certainly glad that you're thinking, Gabriel, but I'm admittedly unsure as to what help you expect from me."

Gabriel visibly struggled for a moment. Beezlebub rolled their eyes and spoke up. "We'll come back to that later. We need to know more about the humans."

The Archangel, the Principality and the Original Tempter all stared at Beelzebub. They looked disgruntled. "What? It's true. They keep waving bits of plastic around, what happened to money?"

"Hang on, wait a minute, I need to know-"

"-Next time Gabriel, practicalities first--"

"-but the _implications_ of-"

"-getting weird looks at that cart thing-"

"-celestial order-"

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley snorted. They watched their former bosses bicker back and forth before Aziraphale coughed politely.

"Beelzebub, the plastic cards represent money elsewhere, and can be used to obtain paper currency and coins at special machines. Gabriel, I'm not sure what help I can be, Her plans have always been ineffable but clearly the end of days was not part of them." Aziraphale smiled his blandest customer service smile. "Now, what will it take to ensure you do not return to our home?"

Beelzebub narrowed their eyes. "Meet us in London. Answer our questions there." 

Crowley frowned. "What, just drop everything whenever you call, piss off to the city? Won't be happening."

"Certainly not," huffed Aziraphale. "No, if you want us to meet you elsewhere you will have to arrange it ahead of time. And ask politely."

Beelzebub considered this. "Deal," they said, and nodded.

"Hang on, wait-" Gabriel began, reaching out and grabbing Aziraphale's arm. He was still confused, and just wanted Aziraphale to _talk_ to him about this, and then they could all worry about the human customs-

Aziraphale's eyes widened; there was a hiss and a flash of black and red. Gabriel yelped and pulled back, hand throbbing and bleeding from two large puncture wounds. Crowley, fully transformed, wrapped shining coils around Aziraphale's body and glared at Gabriel.

"Handsssss off, prick."

"You bit me!"

"No sssshit!"

"Crowley dear, enough-"

"Time to go Gabriel _-_ "

Aziraphale backed away, hauling his hissing serpent inside the house. Gabriel started to hyperventilate. "Is he venomous? Is his venom hellish? Is this the end? I have so much left to do-"

"It's not the end," Beelzebub interrupted, pulling Gabriel down to sit on the ground and pulling his hand close, inspecting it. "You'd be discorperated at best. Pretty sure this is a dry bite though, bet he just did it to scare you."

Gabriel clutched at his chest and wondered if this is what dying felt like to the humans. There were spots in his vision. Beelzebub stared at him.

"Breathe slower baby, calm down then miracle it away, you'll be fine." Beelzebub patted his hair for a few long moments as his breathing slowed and his vision cleared. Satisfied, they stood up and offered him their hand.

"What did you say?"

"I said let's go home wanker."

~~~~~

"More Beez, more-!"

Gabriel cried out as Beelzebub fucked him harder, their skin slapping against his, their fingers leaving bruises on his hips. They were wearing some sort of leather contraption with an artificial phallus, and the buckles kept digging into his arse on every thrust. He loved it.

"Roll your shoulders back Archangel. Head up. Show off for me," Beelzebub demanded and Gabriel obeyed, spine curling, flexing his muscles and tipping his head back. Gabriel knew he looked good, and he knew Beelzebub liked his corporation. He heard Beelzebub's sharp intake of breath as he posed and preened under their attention; his erection hung neglected and painful, but he didn't want to touch himself until Beelzebub told him to. 

Beelzebub took one hand from Gabriel's hip[13], dug their nails deep into the space between his shoulder blades, and dragged them down his back. "Spread 'em Gabriel. Want to see." Shuddering, Gabriel unfurled both pairs of his wings, grey and iridescent violet feathers fanned wide to cover the bed. Beelzebub groaned and fucked him harder, and he shut his eyes and cried out wordlessly. 

"Chest on the bed, then you can touch yourself-" Gabriel dropped, cheek pressed into the mattress and arse in the air. He was desperate for relief, and he could _come_ now, Beelzbub had given him _permission_ , and he barely managed to wrap a hand around his erection before he was coming so hard he blacked out.

He awoke to find himself sprawled face down on the mattress, Beelzebub totally naked and curled up on his back. Their head rested between his wings and they hummed tunelessly[14] as they idly stroked his ribs. He yawned[15]. "'S this sleeping?" 

Beelzebub laughed. "No you moron. You should though. Sometime." 

"Mmmmm perhaps."

They lay together in comfortable silence. Beezlebub slid off his back and curled up under his wing.

"So."

"Hmm?"

"I called the traitors."

Gabriel propped himself up on one elbow and lifted his wing. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

Beelzebub didn't move.

"And?"

"And they'll meet us at that park. In a few days."

"A few days?"

"Yeah."

Beelzebub's eyes were still shut. Gabriel, inexplicably nervous, felt his wings twitch.

"Relax, Archangel. And lay back down, I'm cold."

Huffing, Gabriel complied. 

~~~~~

It was a nice day. The sun shone, for once, and it seemed as though half the humans in the city had decided to descend on London's green spaces. Gabriel looked about as he and Beelzebub walked through St James' Park to the prearranged meeting point; none of the humans were dressed as impeccably as him.

"So….human questions first, _then_ ineffable plan and matters of policy?"

"Yes, Gabe."

Gabriel winced. "Shouldn't have told you about that."

"You like it."

"Do not." 

"Whatever."

They reached the prearranged location and sat on the bench. Waterfowl began to waddle closer and gather in front of them, and Gabriel glanced at Beelzebub. "What do you think they're doing?"

"They want you to feed them, wankwings," the Serpent's voice hissed in his ear.

Gabriel did not flinch[16]. "Demon. Aziraphale."

"Good morning Gabriel. Beelzebub." Aziraphale stepped around the bench, a small brown paper bag in hand. The waterfowl appeared to enjoy the paper bag and moved closer. Aziraphale reached in and removed a handful of small green balls that he gently threw to the ground. "We used to feed the ducks bread, but have since been informed that peas are much better for them." 

Beelzebub leaned forward and braced their elbows on their knees. They looked to Aziraphale. "Do you gain an advantage by feeding them? Do the ducks do your bidding?"

Crowley sniggered. Aziraphale glanced at him before answering, somewhat stiffly. "The ducks are not my underlings, no. There are many reasons that humans feed the ducks. For myself, it started out as something to do while sitting in the park, and then became something pleasurable for the act itself." Aziraphale paused, and continued more gently. "It's quite alright to do something simply for the pleasure it gives you. Not everything must have an ulterior motive, as it were."

The ducks waddled about, eating the peas. Gabriel looked between Aziraphale and Beelzebub. Crowley draped himself over one corner of the bench and sighed. "You two called us here. What'd you want?"

Gabriel opened his mouth but Beelzebub spoke first. "Look. We need to understand the humans. Gabriel might not give a damn about looking weird in front of them but I do."

"Seems a bit stupid, caring," Crowley mused. "Least for you. What's going on?"

Beelzebub hummed[17] in irritation. "There was a thing. A human thing." They paused, and somehow gave the impression of squirming without moving. "It smelled good."

"It did not-"

"Shut up Gabriel. So….the thing. Other humans got some, and they used the plastic cards, and they consumed the thing. And I told the human to give me the consumables and the human shut his cart up and told me to go sleep it off somewhere. Whatever that means."

Crowley sniggered again, and Aziraphale tittered. Gabriel sighed. "The problem is clearly the gross matter. Immortal beings inhabiting corporations have no need to consume such things, it must confuse the mind," he said piously. 

"Oh, do be quiet Gabriel," Aziraphale snapped, and momentarily looked rather taken aback at his own words. He gave his corporation a little shake and continued. "Beelzebub, if I understand you correctly, you were unsure as to how to obtain some sort of food?" 

Beelzebub scowled and shrugged. "'T's not the same if you miracle it up," they muttered. 

Silence fell between the four beings. Crowley looked unhappy. Beelzebub looked irritated. Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Gabriel was confused.

"Just so I'm quite certain, you have an _interest_ in food? That is, an interest in consuming food?" Aziraphale asked, his tone shifting.

"Oh no," said Crowley hurriedly, straightening up.

"Look, I remember how good fruit tasted in the development stages, but this smelled even better, and it was warm. And there's these vessels, the humans all seem to wander around drinking out of them and they look _happy_. And some of them _make_ things out of different food, I saw it on the television, and then it doesn't look like the original food but they seem to like it more…." Beelzebub's eyes had lit up as they spoke, but now they trailed off and slumped back against the back of the bench. They crossed their arms.

Gabriel looked from Beelzebub to Aziraphale. The principality's expression was full of far too much joy for a conversation about food, and he seemed to faintly glow even in the full sun. Gabriel heard Crowley groan. 

"Beelzebub, have you ever tried cake?" Aziraphale asked excitedly.

"Don't think so. What is it?"

"Oh, it's one of the things humans can make using other food. There's so many different kinds! Oh, there's that delightful patisserie in Westminster, why don't we take them there Crowley?"

"Angel, no-"

"You mean, we can….eat. Cake. Just go and eat some. Now?" 

Gabriel frowned. "I have no interested in the food."

Aziraphale, Crowley, and Beelzebub ignored him. "We can indeed. And there's other pastries there you can try, to see what you like. And we can show you how currency works now too!" Aziraphale scrunched up his brown bag and began to hurry down the path. "Come along, all of you, if we don't dally we can beat the rush for morning tea."

Beelzebub hurriedly stood and followed Aziraphale. Crowley glared at Gabriel a moment before rushing to catch up himself. "Oi, Angel! Wait up yeah?"

Gabriel was left on the seat surrounded by ducks, the sun still shining, and wondering what on Earth had just happened. Surely Beelzebub wasn't serious about the food? Could it be a ruse to get the other angel and demon to cooperate? He tried desperately to think of any time he had mentioned Aziraphale's tendency to consume foodstuffs to Beelzebub, but it didn't seem likely.

A finger poked his shoulder. "Come on wanker, I want cake," Beelzebub said, and started off down the path again. Gabriel sighed and stood, following after the faint voices of the Principality and the Lord of the Flies; perhaps, once Beelzebub and Aziraphale had consumed their fill of this cake, he could ask some questions of his own.

[1] Or retired, or fired, depending who you asked

[2] Demons had a long history of betrayal after all, and it wasn't as if a demon could rise; thus Crowley was written off as a terrifying anomaly and life in Hell, such as it was, continued on unchanged

[3] Slightly tacky feeling polyester in an odd shade of murky yellow, ugh

[4] Blue paisley, still polyester

[5] Except for singing Her praises and conveying Her proclamations and so forth, but that was what he'd been made for, and it was company policy that he thought as such.

[6] Not Questions, that was far too dangerous

[7] Crowley had always thought that Aziraphale was the worst liar he had ever met, until he got to know Gabriel

[8] And a miracle in place of a shower

[9] The wave was incredibly sarcastic, but Gabriel was even worse than most members of the Host at detecting anything of the sort

[10] Truly terrible at detecting sarcasm

[11] "For fuck's sake Gabriel it's called a cottage, what the fuck are they teaching you idiots up there?"

[12] His Earthly bed linens were a pale grey, and far softer than any he'd encountered in the cheap motels. He might like them even more than the clothes

[13] Gabriel almost twisted around to complain

[14] It was buzzing, really, but Gabriel had quickly learned not to say so

[15] A new experience for him. It felt a bit like stretching his face. He liked it!

[16] Gabriel did, in fact, flinch. And yelp. Between them Beelzebub and Crowley managed to bring the incident up at least once a week for the next six decades

[17] Buzzed


	3. The eighth Night of Chanukah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chag Sameach!
> 
> I wrote this on the Eighth Night where I live (Australia) but was far too tired to edit and post, so instead it's up in time for the Eighth Night for the rest of the world. I have no experience with Chanukah beyond reading widely, so if there are any major errors please let me know. 
> 
> Many thanks to [ Melibe ](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Melibe/pseuds/Melibe) for glancing over this for me. All mistakes are definitely mine, especially spelling errors.

"You can come in now!"

Refraining from muttering or rolling their eyes[1], Crowley and Beelzebub stepped into the sitting room. The demons had quickly established during their first Chanukah at the new house that the blessings made them itchy, and subsequently Beelzebub would drag Crowley into the kitchen just before sunset and put him to work plating fancy cheeses and frying things. The angels were careful to be quieter when singing or blessing; Gabriel[2], especially, found it difficult.

Aziraphale's most recent menorah had been in his possession for more than four hundred years. It sat now in the window that faced the lane by their house, its ornate silver branches polished until they gleamed and its cups filled with olive oil and cotton wicks. The demons moved to flank the angels, looking down at the single lit candle.

Beelzebub coughed. "'S'it time?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Crowley snorted softly, and Aziraphale sighed. "You know it is, dear. As it has been the last seven nights," he murmured, taking the shamash in his right hand. Gabriel threw one arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and pulled Beelzebub tight against his side, while Crowley hooked his chin over Aziraphale's shoulder and pressed a warm palm to the base of Aziraphale's spine.

In the fading twilight, three sets of eyes watched as a semi-retired principality carefully lit the eight lights. The small flames burned cleanly, and warm light soon filled the room as the four moved to sit on the sofa and armchairs and floor cushions arranged before the window. Beelzebub clicked their fingers; platters of latkes and fritas de prasa and keftes of all kinds appeared on the low table before them, plates piled high with sufganiyot and buñelos and sfenj, chunks of cheese arranged artfully around carefully considered cracker pairings. Aziraphale's eyes lit up, and he sat on the floor and reached for the closest morsel.

"Beelzebub, this looks scrummy," he exclaimed before tucking in, humming with delight after each mouthful. Crowley grinned and nibbled on a latke, and Beelzebub ate six different keftes in quick succession. Gabriel rolled his eyes at all of them, but his exasperation didn't hide the affection clear on his face. Without prompting he spoke of his first Chanukah experience during an assignment to the shores of the Mediterranean, when a goat had attempted to eat his robe. Gabriel's cheeks flushed as the demons jeered, but when he finished Beelzebub moved over and slid their hand[3] into his, and Crowley launched into a story of his own about a run-in with a flock of sheep.

With plenty of teasing, mocking, and laughter, the four took turns telling more Chanukah stories. Aziraphale and Crowley had the most, of course, and had several involving the same people.

"You actually met Yehudit?"

"Course I did! Everyone else was all 'oh yeah, let's just wait around for someone else to save us', she actually got stuff done. Woman like that, I had to see what she was like."

"And? How did it go?"

Crowley threw himself into a sprawl over Beelzebub's lap and grinned at Aziraphale. "Spotted me for what I was right out, didn't she? Told me to bugger off if I knew what was good for me, basically, right annoying it was. Didn't fancy being discorperated, so I scarpered."

Beelzebub snorted. "Very brave."

"Oh piss off." 

"You know," Gabriel interjected, a thought occurring to him, "I don't remember anything about a miracle of oil. No report. Not even a memo!" He looked to Aziraphale, who held a half-eaten sufganiyot in one stationary hand, jam stubbornly refusing to drip down fingers now gripping the dough too tightly[4]. "Isn't it a whole thing? Is there more to the story? It wasn't the demon, was it?"

"Hey!" Crowley protested, feigning offense.

Aziraphale gave a weak, nervous smile and coughed lightly. "Yes. Well. As it happens, in fact, I was. At the Temple, I mean."

Aziraphale's fingers trembled for a moment, and he kept his eyes on his hands. Gabriel hadn't seen Aziraphale this nervous since before his Principality and his Prince of Hell had discovered their shared love of gross matter. 

"Wait, really? You've never told me that." Crowley sat up straighter, staring at Aziraphale. Beelzebub hummed[5] in curiosity and leaned forward. Aziraphale's cheeks went pink.

"I missed the fighting, arrived in Jerusalem right when the replacement menorah was finished, as it turns out. Well," Aziraphale coughed again, "it wasn't, ah, a coincidence. I had orders. As it were."

"Orders?" Gabriel's expression twisted. "But…you were _my_ angel. Agent! One of my subordinates. I was the one giving you orders." Beelzebub threw a sfenj at Gabriel's flushed cheek, but kept their eyes on the Principality.

"Ah yes, well, you see…" Aziraphale glanced around the room. In the flickering light Crowley's eyes glowed, and Beelzebub's gleamed. "They were orders from….a higher authority."

"The Metatron? He'd usually have passed word through Michael, at least." 

"No. These orders, they came, um, directly from the top. As it were."

The room was silent for several long seconds.

"You mean to tell me," Crowley said in a low voice, "that She actually _spoke_ to you?" 

"Well, that is to say-"

"But no one's heard from Her in six thousand years!" Gabriel interjected, throwing his hands up in confusion. "Maybe the _Metatron_ , but not the rest of us!"

"She's certainly not speaking to any of us _downstairs_ , that's for sure." Beelzebub sneered for a moment before a small feral grin grew on their face. "So why does She speak to you, Princess?"

"It's not a regular thing, you understand. That is, I can't just…. _pray_ , and somehow expect an answer." Aziraphale shrugged, fingers twisting together[6]. "She's not taking my calls, as it were. But, well... on very rare occasions, She wished to intervene more directly." He frowned in concentration. "I think."

"But why you?" Gabriel caught Crowley's glare[7] and continued hurriedly. "I mean, surely She could speak to any of the Host, no one else has heard from her since the Beginning."

Aziraphale sighed, eyes fluttering closed. "She's never said. I always thought that it was, perhaps, because I walked among them. The humans, I mean. But I don't know." 

Silence fell. The lights went out one by one, until only the shamash was still lit.

Beelzebub stood, unexpectedly, and plonked down besides Aziraphale. They threw an arm around his waist and let their head rest against his shoulder, glaring over at Gabriel until he joined them on the floor. Crowley was already sliding down to join them, draping himself over Aziraphale as Gabriel curled up with his head in the Principality's lap. 

"What was it like?" Beelzebub whispered. Gabriel curled closer, and Crowley pressed his face to Aziraphale's hair.

"Overwhelming. Every time. And I always thought I would remember how wonderful and terrifying it was next time, and I never have." Aziraphale tipped his head against Beelzebub's, reached to touch Crowley and Gabriel. "It was warm." 

With a murmur Crowley produced more pillows and blankets, and the four wordlessly arranged themselves together on the floor. Another murmur and Crowley had them all in comfortable pyjamas, curled quietly together under the light of a single candle, the world peaceful and still around them.

[1] A truly exceptional effort, surely

[2] He was still, after all, the Most Holy Messenger, even when he wore suits in place of robes and spouted corporate buzzwords in place of Holy Insight and song

[3] Greasy with oil. No doubt Gabriel's trousers would stain, but they'd miracle it away tomorrow and he wouldn't even notice

[4] Crowley had had _words_ with the strawberries long before Beelzebub had turned them into jam, but Crowley's threats tended to linger

[5] Buzzed

[6] The jam was done for, warnings or no

[7] Crowley had secretly wondered the same thing, but he would always be particularly sensitive to any perceived slighting of Aziraphale by Gabriel


End file.
